


String Theory

by TheDragonAndTheHare



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Character death - Past, Characters dealing with mental illness, F/M, Family Problems, In which Charles can see this family has problems, M/M, Return of Thor: The Golden Retriever, Romance, Slow Burn, So he does his best to help them because that's the kind of guy he is, family life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7028839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragonAndTheHare/pseuds/TheDragonAndTheHare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is a student at SHIELD University when he's offered a tutoring job for the summer  - for a family with seven children.</p><p>Erik Lehnsherr just wants the best for his children, even if doesn't know how to properly show it. Cue the long line of tutors that the children have an excellent time in scaring off.</p><p>The Lehnsherr family have a few major problems that they just don't know how to deal with. Nobody knows how to communicate, secrets are being kept, and there's a lot of acting out.</p><p>Maybe Charles can be the one that can bring this family back together.</p><p> </p><p>[Sound of Music AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of the university choir was always pleasant to hear as Charles walked through the nearby halls. He would have joined them, loving to sing himself, but today he had an appointment he needed to get to with one of his professors to discuss something he could do for extra credit for the next year over the coming summer break.

Charles could easily say that Professor Coulson was his favourite teacher. He taught psychology, one of Charles’ majors, and was also studying biology, wanting to go on to genetics and biophysics.

As he neared the office, he could sense the minds of his classmate Clint along with his teacher. Charles did his best to block out the specifics of their thoughts, but he still felt the excitement coming from the room in waves. He knocked on the door a prompt three times, and stepped back when he heard the scraping of a chair and hushed voices. After a moment, a frazzled looking Clint opened the door, looking relieved to see it was only Charles at the door.

“And remember, Mr. Barton, you need to hand in that assignment by Friday! No more extensions,” Mr. Coulson said from his desk after clearing his throat.

“Sure thing, Mr. Coulson,” Clint replied, giving him a wink before leaving, and giving Charles a rather big shit eating grin before leaving.

Charles entered the room as Mr. Coulson was patting down the wrinkles in his suit and straightening his tie, “I’m sorry to have interrupted, Mr. Coulson.”

Mr. Coulson cleared his throat again. “No, no, you weren’t interrupting anything. Anyways, Charles, I have something of a proposition for you. It’s a job, you’re perfectly free to refuse it, but, like I said before, I can make it count as extra credit. A friend of mine is looking for a tutor for his kids.”

“But I’m not studying to be a teacher, Mr. Coulson.”

“I know, but I also know that you’re the best candidate for the job. My friend, his name is Erik Lehnsherr. He has seven kids. Don’t let that part freak you out though, he’s willing to pay the tutor whatever they ask, and provide accommodation.”

Charles balked at the idea of seven kids. “So why am I the perfect candidate then? What part of the seven kids is supposed to freak me out? I mean I love kids, but-”

“They’re all mutants, like you. Well, not exactly like you, but… yeah. All seven, including the dad.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah. Well, not _all_ of them. The second oldest, Steve, he’s sixteen, isn’t one, he’s a nice kid, was always really sick and scrawny when he was younger, but then he really hit his growth spurt and hasn’t been sick since he was twelve.”

Charles was silent for a moment, as he could feel the panic rising in Mr. Coulson.

“Was… was this not okay? I don’t mean to be offensive, if this is offensive to you. I’m sorry, I just thought that you would be able to understand the kids better, seeing that you have the mutant thing in common…”

Charles lets Mr. Coulson ramble on for a little while longer, before finally smiling and letting out a laugh. “It’s completely fine, Mr. Coulson. I understand, and I’m interested.”

Mr. Coulson sighed in relief. “Oh. Good! I’ll give you his contact details,” he started writing them on a post-it note, “but I need to give you some warnings about Erik.”

“Please tell me,” Charles said, taking the note.

“Erik can be a bit… strict, and I’m being gentle when I say that. His wife died about six years ago, leaving him with the kids. They’re well off enough, he’s a CEO or a Captain or something, he’s never revealed to me much about his job, but I do know he’s able to provide amply for his family.

“His kids are great, I’ve helped him out with looking after them over the years, they won’t be much trouble, I think. All except the oldest two were adopted. And Erik… he’s nice, once you get to know him.”

Charles looks down at the note. “I’ll trust you on that. Thank you for letting me know about this, Mr. Coulson, I’ll be sure to give Mr. Lehnsherr a call.”

“Excellent. And I would really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about Mr. Barton and I,” Mr. Coulson said, looking a little sheepish, a faint red tinge to his cheeks completing the look.

“Sir, I don’t know specifics, and I don’t want to. Your secret is safe with me. Clint’s a good friend and I don’t wish to hurt him.”

“Thank you. I’ll give Erik a call, tell him to go easy on you.”

“Thanks again, Mr. Coulson. I’ll see you next semester.”

“See you then, Charles.”

Charles left, already sensing the mischievous mind of Clint coming from the window, and put the post-it into his pocket, ready to call Erik Lehnsherr a call as soon as he got back to his house.

*~.~*

Natasha is onto him as soon as he walks through the door.

“What did Coulson want?”

Charles pulls the post-it note from his pocket. “He told me of a tutoring job happening over the summer holidays. Said I was the perfect candidate, in fact.”

Natasha looks at him blankly for a moment. “A tutoring job? Only you can be called in to see a teacher and be offered a _job_.”

“I think he must have been in a good mood,” Charles replied, shifting his backpack from one shoulder to another. “Clint was in there just before I was.”

She rolled her eyes, walking beside him towards their room. She peered at the note to look at what was scribbled on it. “ _Erik Lehnsherr_ ,” she said, “sounds German.”

“The man has seven kids,” he told her as they got to their door.

Natasha gave a low whistle. “The man’s been busy.”

“All except the oldest two are adopted. And he’s a widower,” he said, unlocking the door.

Another whistle. “Poor guy. Do you think he has a silver fox thing going on?”

Charles practically turns his nose up at the comment. “I am going to give this man a call, and you won’t be in the room when I talk to him. I don’t quite trust you enough to not say anything over my shoulder.”

Natasha pouted, but she left the room without complaint. “I’ll go see if Logan is around, then. He owes me a bottle of vodka,” she said, closing the door behind her.

Charles waved her off, grabbing his phone from his jeans pocket, and quickly dialed the number on the note. He waited a couple of rings until the line picked up and there was a child shouting in the background.

“ _Peter! Please be quiet, Daddy’s on the phone! Erik Lehnsherr speaking_.”

“Hello Mr. Lehnsherr, my name is Charles Xavier, Phil Coulson is one of my teachers-“

“ _Ah, yes, Phil said you would be in touch. Said you were the best candidate for the tutoring job_.”

“Yes, that’s been said several times today.”

“ _Well, I will be needing the absolute best. The school holidays are starting soon, and I don’t want the children falling behind in their studies. I simply won’t allow it. I’m a little busy at the moment, but if you don’t mind, maybe you’d be able to meet me for a proper discussion?_ ”

“Sure, yes, I can do that.”

“ _Excellent_ ,” there’s grunts on the other end, and it sounds like Erik has had the wind knocked out of him. “ _Peter! Just for that you won’t be getting your pocket money this week!_ ”

“ _But Daaaaaad_ -“

“ _Go to your room! Now!_ ”

Charles waits and listens patiently as Peter dares argue with his father for a little while longer. Eventually, though, Erik is able to return his attention to Charles.

“ _It would be best if we could meet at my house._ ”

“No problem.”

“ _This Saturday, preferably. I must insist on keeping things professional, so please prepare as you would for any other job interview._ ”

“Of course, sir.”

After a few minutes more, with Charles noticing the blasé attitude that Erik Lehnsherr seemed to have, they’d arranged for him to come to the Lehnsherr’s estate at 1PM (“Just after lunch, the younger children will be more docile then,”) for their interview.

Charles allows Natasha to come back into the room once the call is finished, vodka in one hand and phone in the other. “I’ve been doing some googling.”

“Always a dangerous thing,” Charles quipped. “I’m already wary of this man.”

“That man is a DILF,” Natasha said, showing him what she was googling. “Not quite the silver fox thing I was imagining, he’s 42, but I would totally consider doing him.”

Charles raised an eyebrow at her, and then looked at the picture. The man was quite handsome, he had to admit.

“You know what I mean,” she said, rolling her eyes at his look. “Find a way into that man’s pants, Charles. You gotta do it for _all_ of us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait, guys. A lot of things going on. Also, a little edit - I've made Erik a little older, he was originally 39, now 42, so it fits a little better.
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys.

When Charles wakes up on Saturday morning, he instantly feels the nothingness coming from his friend in the bed across the room. He rolls over to see Natasha facing the wall, lying still as a stone, and her body without movement except her breathing. She’s having one of her episodes, and as much as he wants to help her, there isn’t a lot he can do right now.

Before he leaves, Charles makes sure she’s as comfortable as she can be, puts her medication on the bedside table along with some food and water when she feels ready for it. On the way down to the kitchen he makes sure to tell Clint and Logan what’s happening and to check in on her soon. He knows self care won’t be on her mind today, so he makes sure that it’ll be on someone else’s.

“You got your interview with Erik Lehnsherr today, right?” Clint asks, pouring out two cups of coffee.

Charles nods, taking a bite of raisin toast. “Professor Coulson told you, yeah?” He trades his second slice of toast with Clint for the coffee.

“Yeah, I can get that man to tell me anything,” he said smugly. “And he also got me a job working with for Erik Lehnsherr a couple days a week.”

“What do you do for him?” Charles asked, intrigued.

“His youngest daughter, Wanda, is deaf. She goes to a specialized school, and Mr. Lehnsherr hired me when she started school last year, to “supplement her education” as he put it. I help her with her homework and sign language, I teach it to the older kids too, and Mr. Lehnsherr, when he’s around.”

Charles nodded as he listened. “Is he not around often?”

Clint shrugs. “He works, some high up, secret government business or something, I’m not sure. He usually gets home around 5PM, when I leave. Sometimes he comes in through the front door, sometimes he just appears.”

Charles ponders on that as he sips his coffee. “Professor Coulson says that Mr. Lehnsherr’s pretty strict. Is that true?”

“Oh yeah, he’s got those kids pretty well trained,” Clint says with a mouthful of toast. “You’ll see, as soon as he enters the room or shouts or whistles for them.”

“He uses a whistle?”

“Only sometimes. But he’s a good dad, as strict as he is. Just wait until you get a view of his ass, though. You could bounce a nickel off of it,” Clint closes his eyes and makes some suggestive motions with his hands.

“I don’t even understand that expression,” Charles says, nose deep in his mug.

“Neither do I. I just know that it’s a nice ass. The man is the definition of DILF.”

“Funny, Natasha was saying that just the other week,” Charles says, and looks down at his watch. “I’ve got to run. Train to catch. Is she good with you?” He downs the rest of his coffee, regretting the choice immediately.

Clint nods. “Already rescheduled my brunch plans. Will you be back in time for dinner? Marie’s a big end of semester feast for everyone.”

Marie is an excellent cook. “I’ll make sure to get home in time,” Charles vows, and hastily swallows the last of his toast down his scorched throat.

Confident that she’s in safe hands, Charles leaves the house, ready for one bus, a train and then another bus just so he can be within walking distance to the Lehnsherr’s estate, out in Westchester.

Charles dressed a little more nicely than he normally would be, remembering what Mr. Lensherr about this being a formal interview, and so had made a much more conscious effort in selecting his attire, looking a nice neat casual. He “borrowed” Logan’s satchel, which suited the whole outfit a little better than his backpack, and had chucked in everything he needed for the day.

On the train he cracks out the book he found in the bag, a thing on politics that he never would have suspected Logan would read, but it feels well worn in his hands, so he can tell it’s been read a few times before. And it does capture his attention for a little bit, but after about twenty minutes he puts it away again so he can check in with Clint about how Natasha is doing.

_Still in bed_ , is the reply, _but she’s had some water and her medicine. Logan’s come back with some Ben and Jerry’s for later. Got some of her favourite stuff queued on Netflix, ready to go._

Charles is a little relieved to hear it. Natasha’s been dealing with these episodes throughout college, and has had depression through most of her teen years, from what Charles understands. The antidepressants she’s on now help reduce the amount of time she needs to recover from episodes, which has certainly helped her with completing her education. He knew that it had been tougher for her during her secondary education, before she had got help.

The train journey is another forty minutes, and the book isn’t keeping his interest now, so he focuses on the scenery outside the window. It had transitioned from urban to suburban sometime while he was reading, and now it’s slowly becoming more country. According to Google maps, the Lensherr estate was in this kind of area, not quite within civilization, but certainly far enough from it. 

Charles supposed that made sense, thinking about just how many mutants, and young mutants at that, there were in this family. Depending on the type of powers these children had, it could be dangerous for both them and non-mutants if the young ones were still learning out to control their powers. It may have also been that they just liked their privacy - Charles imagined that to be a little more towards the truth.

Walking through Salem Center is quite lovely, but now he’s regretting not asking one his friends if he could borrow their car for the day, because walking is really taking up a lot of time. The estate is about half a mile down the road he’s currently walking down. There’s a hedge boarder on his right looks like it extends down the road for quite some time, but the area on the right looks quite open, trees dotted along side the road and further into the land. The quick look he had at Google maps revealed there was a small lake nearby, and Charles looks forward to seeing when he can.

When he finally arrives outside the gate to the Lensherr estate, he’s amazed by what he sees. The amount of land feels so much greater than what it looked like on Google maps. There’s a lot of luscious green grass surrounded by some more of that big hedge border, along with lots of great tall trees lining the driveway up to the actual house, more like a small castle really, which looks like a whole different kind of beautiful to the surrounding environment.

Charles just stands outside the gate for a few minutes taking in the sight, but then eventually he does have to press the buzzer on the wall next to the gate.

Before someone replies, there’s a subtle gust of wind that just ruffles the hair on Charles’s head. He senses the mind, and is confused by just how fast it came and went. _One of the children_ , he surmises.

He sees the front door open, and out steps Erik Lehnsherr, looking very handsome in a well fitted, dark suit, and Charles feels quite out of breath as the man nears, his features becoming clearer, and all he can think about is just how much he wants to look at that face for hours. Hair nicely combed to one side, a stern yet otherwise neutral expression, very nice facial structure, and eyes that Charles can’t quite tell the colour of. Blue? Grey? Steel? He doesn’t know.

As Erik nears, Charles remembers to breathe.

“Hello sir, I’m Charles Xavier.”

Erik waits until he opens the gate before he replies. “Erik Lehnsherr. Thank you for coming, Charles,” he said, holding out his hand. He gives Charles a brief smile before returning to his neutral expression.

Charles took it, mind askew at the sound of Erik’s voice, which sounds like it has a faintly German accent, although he’s not sure. But it sounds so beautiful coming from his mouth that Charles catches himself shaking Erik’s hand for a little too long, and he can instantly feel the annoyance coming from the older man.

“My pleasure,” Charles says quickly, taking his hand away, the sides of his hand turning red from the firm grip.

Erik indicates up to the house, and Charles starts walking up the driveway while Erik locks the gate behind them.

The house looks even more amazing as more of it comes into view. “You have a lovely home, Mr. Lehnsherr,” he says, looking back towards him.

“Thank you,” Erik replies curtly, marching quickly towards the door without waiting. 

Charles trots to keep up, and soon he’s inside, marveling at the interior. It’s just the lobby, but it’s already setting his expectations high for the rest of the place. He doesn’t know anything about woodwork, but that doesn’t stop him from appreciating it. There are two staircases coming down in front of him, two hallways beside him leading down to different wings. There’s a table in the middle of the room, which looks a little bare and out of place, but it’s still nice all the same.

Erik closes the door behind him, and Charles hears the hmm, nice as Erik takes the opportunity to check him out as Charles walked past. But the thought passes with the moment, and it’s back to business in Erik’s mind. Charles doesn’t mind the moment of appreciation, though.

Charles doesn’t know where any of the children are, but he knows they’re around, hearing their loud minds inside his head. He can’t quite tell them apart just yet, but he knows he’ll get to know them soon enough.

“My office is just this way. I’ll introduce you to the children later, if all goes well.”

Charles nods, and follows Erik through the house, down the hallway to the left. There’s a set of French doors that Charles can see down the hallway they’re headed down, and he sees it opens out on to a courtyard, followed by more of the luscious green lawn.

“Would you like something to drink?” Erik offered, pausing at the end of the hall.

“I’d love a cup of tea, if you have any,” Charles replied.

“I’m afraid we’re not much in the way of tea drinkers here. I can offer you coffee, or water…”

Charles politely declines.

Erik opens one of the doors on the right, opposite a pretty sizable library, which Charles secretly hopes he gets a chance to look through while he’s here. The door is shut behind him before Erik walks around to the other side of the desk, offering the chair in front for Charles to take.

Charles rifles through his satchel to fish out his résumé, holding it out for Erik to take before he verbally asks for it.

Erik hesitates for a moment, a little taken aback by the quick gesture, before taking it. “Phil says you’re a good student.”

“I do my best,” Charles replies, trying to sound humble. He does do his best, and he is damn good at studying.

Erik nods, putting on a pair of glasses before he reads the résumé. It very much adds to the ‘sexy older man’ visage that Charles realizes he’s suddenly very appreciative of. He tugs at his collar slightly as he feels a phantom rise in the temperature.

“How did you come to study at SHIELD University?” Erik asks, looking down at the résumé. 

“It was really the best place to study what I wanted to study. There were a few places back home in England that were accepting of mutant students, but they didn’t have any courses that I was interested.”

Erik nodded again.

“I did consider HYDRA University, but once I told them I was a mutant, I was promptly told that I would not have a place there.”

“They may be considered one of the best universities in the country, but it’s run by a bunch of arseholes.”

“I agree, sir, very much. SHIELD is a much more progressive place, I’m glad to be studying there. I’ve found my horizons have broadened significantly since coming here.”

“And what are you studying there, Charles?”

“Psychology and biology at the moment. Next year I’ll be studying genetics and biophysics to gain my Ph.Ds.”

Erik ‘hmph’s, nodding in approval. “What will you be doing your thesis on?”

“I’m thinking genetic mutation.” Charles hears Erik think about whether or not to ask what his abilities are, and he quickly answers before he’s asked, “I’m telepathic.”

“Oh? My daughter Jean is, too. Her powers aren’t as powerful as they could be, I imagine, not yet anyway. She needs to touch a person before she can actually get the clearest read on their thoughts.”

“I’ve been hearing all the children, sir, and the loudest of all I’m assuming is Jean. She senses I’m here, too. It’s a telepath thing, if we’re near enough to each other, it doesn’t matter the skill level. It’s like being able to see that people are talking, but you’re too far away to actually hear what they’re saying,” Charles explained.

“Perhaps you’ll be able to spend some time with that on her. I know she’s been eager to develop her skills.”

“I’ll be happy to work on that with her,” Charles said. “If I may ask, what are your abilities, and the other children’s?”

Erik waved his hand towards the Newton’s cradle sitting on his desk, which instantly began clanging back and forth, “I can manipulate magnetic fields.”

Charles smiled as he watched. “A remarkable ability, Mr. Lehnsherr,” he praised, and Erik practically preened with the compliment, though he didn’t show it outwardly.

Erik cleared his throat, and then said, “My oldest, Raven, is able to shape shift. My second oldest, Steve, doesn’t have a mutation. Jean is also telekinetic. There’s Scott: his mutation hasn’t revealed itself yet, but we’re all hoping for it to do so soon. Ororo can manipulate the weather. Peter can move at superhuman speeds, faster than the sound barrier. And my daughter Wanda… well, it’s easiest to say that she can do magic. It’s more like reality warping, though.”

He says it all with a sense of pride, Charles notes, and he definitely should. “Extraordinary,” he said, somewhat quietly. 

“Wanda, I should mention, is also deaf. The children and I all know sign language, ASL, to varying degrees, so there shouldn’t be much trouble with communicating. We’ve never treated it like a disability, and it would be greatly appreciated if you didn’t treat it as such, either.”

Charles nodded. “Of course. I’ll endeavor to learn it as well as I can while I’m here, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“We have someone who comes around twice a week to help her with her studies one-on-one, as well as to teach all of us sign language as well. Another one of Phil’s recommendations-“

“Ah, yes, Clint Barton! We’re friends and housemates, he was just telling me this morning that he works for you. He says he enjoys working for you, and that the kids are great; you’re strict, but not as a detriment, and a good father.” Charles feels the abashment coming Erik, and he can’t help but feel just a little smug.

“That’s good, that you know him,” Erik coughed. “Should make it easier for the two of you to work out complementing schedules, like the example I’ve made up,” he rummages through a draw for a moment before producing a sheet of paper and pushed it towards Charles on the desk.

“You’ll be allowed to switch things around a bit, but I would like them to keep them on a similar timetable to the ones they have at school. I’ve arranged for Clint to continue coming around during the summer, I see no reason for any part of their education to slack.”

Charles took the paper, and upon seeing the filled up schedule his heart sank for the children. 

“But this whole thing is filled,” he said, confused. “Don’t the children get breaks?”

“Yes, of course. For lunch.”

“What about weekends?”

“Weekends are spent on practicing their powers and self-reflection.”

“Self-reflection?” Charles repeats. He feels very sorry for these kids, now. The good first impression was quickly wearing away, the strict father image quickly obscuring it. “With all due respect, Mr. Lehnsherr, the school holidays are usually about taking a break from learning, to… reenergize, to be able to be at your best for the coming semester. I can sense how weary those kids are; they should be spending their holidays having fun and doing things they can’t do during the school term, not continuing to study.”

Charles knows he’s struck a nerve, and patiently awaits the speech that is brewing in Mr. Lehnsherr’s head.

“Mr. Xavier, my two youngest are six years old and are already at a fifth grade reading level and can comprehend basic algebra. My oldest are the top students in their AP courses and the ones in middle school will no doubt be in those courses, too. None of that would be without the strictest discipline. How I choose to raise my children is none of your business. 

“Now, I do not ask you to leave is because I want the best for my children, and that includes the best education. None of the past tutors I’ve hired have only stayed a week at the most. They get scared off once they see the kind of powers they possess. I realize that you’re not a tutor or even studying to teach, but Phil says you’re his best student, and I trust his judgment.”

Mr. Lehnsherr pauses, thinking about what he wants to say next, and Charles hears the thought: you’re also the only one I’ll consider this time because you’re a mutant and maybe my kids will connect better with a fellow mutant and won’t try to scare you off. But he doesn’t find a proper way to say it, so Charles talks instead.

“I understand, Mr. Lehnsherr. I’ll take the job, if you’ll let me. But I must also insist that the children have at least a few excursions during their break. Educational excursions, I assure you. They can’t be stuck on your estate, as big as it is, for their whole summer.”

Mr. Lehnsherr thinks for a moment, and Charles can hear the debate going on inside; he’s a worried and protective parent, he has the overwhelming desire to protect his children from anything that might hurt them.

“Very well,” Mr. Lehnsherr eventually concedes, “but I must approve these excursions beforehand, I won’t allow you to simply leave with my children.”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Phil might have said, I will provide accommodation. I know it must have taken a while to get here today from SHIELD. Our guest bedroom is very comfortable, if you would like to use it.”

“It did take just over two hours to get here on public transport,” Charles admitted.

“You don’t have your own vehicle?”

Charles shook his head. “I do have my license, though.”

“Good. This is my first offer for your wage,” Mr. Lehnsherr scribbled a figure onto a post-it note, and slid it across the desk for Charles to take.

Charles was already anticipating the sum, didn’t even bother to look at it. “Sounds reasonable,” he said.

Mr. Lehnsherr hesitated at the answer. “You don’t wish to negotiate?”

“No. Now that I have the job, do I get to meet the children?”

Their minds had been chittering away in his for their entire conversation, and now he was eager to connect them to their faces. Mr. Lehnsherr led him out of the room, back into the foyer, and instructed him to stand towards the door to allow for room. Charles notices the small hand movement that Mr. Lehnsherr does, a small whistle appearing from a pocket and floating up to his lips, and he gives it a short, sharp blow – the sound pierces nearly all the minds within the house.

“Children! Come down here now, please!” With Mr. Lehnsherr’s shout, which sounded magnified in the room, a sense of panic overcame the rest of the minds in the house as they already hurried towards the lobby.

The first one down, he suspected, was Peter, because all of a sudden the wind was knocked out of him and he had a pair of little arms hugging round his middle. He was chuckling merrily at Charles’ reaction.

“Peter!” Mr. Lehnsherr chided, looking very annoyed once Charles managed to free himself.

The rest of the children came down the staircase in single file, and lined themselves up from oldest to youngest; Peter took his place beside his sister when his father waved at him to go, looking very smug at it being known to the stranger that he was older than her.

Charles looked at them all fully now, their minds quickly syncing up in his head with their bodies. They all wore a similar uniform, with different colours and slightly different fits, but all generally the same. They all stood very stiff, backs straight, as if to attention, and waited for their father’s next instructions. He walks behind them, to the oldest at the end of the line, ready to introduce them.

“This is Raven,” Mr. Lehnsherr said, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Raven had lovely blonde hair that fell in soft waves down her shoulders, and blue eyes that actually shimmers between shades, giving Charles a hint at her abilities. Her cheeks are round and full, making her look very youthful, but otherwise her face is quite blank, he notices, just staring out the window beside the door, while her mind is whirling.

_who’s this asshole dammit dad we don’t need another tutor I gotta finish reading that fucking book and write that fucking report I’m behind in fucking biology want to text Hank oh man really wanna see Hank now I’ll sneak out tonight to see him_

“This is Steve,” Erik continues, continuing down the line to the boy next to Raven.

He’s several inches taller than his older sister, and stands more soldier-like than any of the other children. He shares a remarkable likeness to his sister, hair blonde as well, though with a little more yellow, and Charles reckons that they’d share a similar eye colour if Raven stopped changing hers.

Charles remembers what Phil said about Steve, but he can’t imagine this kid being tiny and scrawny, and also questions the fact that Phil said Steve wasn’t a mutant. Steve clearly enjoys working out, from the muscle mass he’s got, but he’s young, so Charles can see him filling out much more over the next couple of years. His facial expression is different from his sisters blank stare, has a much more stern look as he waits for whatever his father says next.

_gotta get back into the gym I was in the middle of a good session hope dad doesn’t keep us down here long want to Skype Peggy tonight I miss her gotta bring up the courage to add Bucky on Facebook why is that so freaking terrifying I just really wanna talk to him again_

“This is Jean.”

_Hello_ , he says to her, reaching out to her.

_You’re like me_ , she realizes, and the muscles twitch at the corners of her mouth as if she wants to smile but can’t, _I haven’t met any other mutants like me before_.

She has beautiful red hair, and fair skin, the type to freckle and burn easily, but it doesn’t quite make her the stand out amongst the children. But certainly, her mind does. Her somewhat nervous and reserved demeanor is hiding something, and he gets the feeling that she doesn’t talk about what’s going on with her that much.

_Can you move things, too?_

Charles sees flashes of memories of her moving objects around her room, things smashing against the wall, and of being at the beach, water giving her a wide berth as she tries to wade in farther than the shallows (he senses her youngness in this memory, along with a lot of sadness and confusion, but he doesn’t ask her about it).

_I’m afraid I can’t_ , he tells her.

_Oh_ , is all she thinks in reply.

“This is Scott.”

Scott has a mop of dark brown hair on his head, and blue eyes that Charles realizes is a trend in the family despite the lack of hereditariness. He has a very stoic expression on his face, and he holds a very similar stance to his brother, so Charles gets the impression that Scott really looks up to his older sibling. The boy’s mind sticks out a bit like a sore thumb – the migraine he’s having leaves quite the impression on Charles, and he’s sure Jean would be feeling the waves, too.

He could sense the subdued personality within Scott, feels the mischievousness that would usually be at the forefront. Charles catches a few memories of the pranks he’s pulled with his siblings on previous tutors.

_want to finish that email to Alex haven’t heard from him in ages hope he’s doing okay the album he sent me was really cool I want to get back and listen to it I hope this headache goes away soon it’s been coming and going for ages_

“This is Ororo.”

Ororo has shocking white hair that’s contrasted by her dark skin, along with another set of blue eyes, which is proving to be a trend. Charles can already sense the same kind of mischievousness in her mind, hearing the plan forming in her head as how best to prank him. Charles knows she would be smirking if she could.

_really got to get this guy good he doesn’t look so tough should be easy to scare him off wonder how fast I can do that maybe I can beat my record will definitely need to use Loki I hate leaving him and Thor outside_

A dog, Charles assumes, or maybe a cat. He makes a mental note to ask Mr. Lensherr before he leaves.

“And these are the twins, Wanda and Peter,” the girl looks up at her father when he gently places his hand upon her head, grabbing onto his leg nervously.

Now these kids certainly have odd hair colours. Wanda has a dark, reddish purple colour to her hair, whereas Peter has pure silver. Wanda has a small, shy smile on her face as she looks towards him, and Peter has large, obnoxious grin on his, proudly showing off his missing teeth. And their thoughts reflect what Charles sees on their faces, with Wanda have a quiet voice in her head, almost a whisper, and Peter practically screaming and clearly wanting to bounce around with the amount of energy he’s got.

Mr. Lensherr looks like he’s about to say something more when his phone goes off.

“Excuse me, children, Charles, I really must take this,” he said, looking down at his mobile, quickly leaving the room after giving Peter’s hair a ruffle. 

And now it suddenly feels quite awkward, now that Charles is left in the room with these children. Before any awkward silence takes hold, he quickly steps forward, putting what he hopes is a welcoming smile on his face.

“Hello, I’m Charles, I’m going to be tutoring you over the summer holidays.”

“Yeah, we got that,” Raven says with a huff, crossing her arms defensively.

“Do you guys want to tell me how old you are, and maybe something about yourselves? What year you’re going to be in after the summer, maybe? I’ll start. I’m almost twenty-seven years old, and I am a mutant, too.”

There are few wide eyes at the statement, and a low chattering begins. Wanda, however, doesn’t react to what he says, just looks towards her older siblings, tugging on Ororo’s clothes to get her attention and signing: what’s he saying?

Ororo starts signing a reply, ( _he’s a_ ) but falters, as she’s unsure of the movements of the next word. 

Jean quickly steps in when she notices. _He’s like us_ , she says, _like me_ , and taps at the side of her head, to which Wanda nods with understanding. Charles watches on, hearing the conversation happening in their heads at the same time as their moving hands.

Charles looks to the oldest sibling. “Raven, why don’t you start?”

Raven rolls her eyes, and Charles gets the image in his head of her popping her hip and blowing bubbles with chewing gum. “I’m seventeen, I’ll be a senior in the fall, and I sure as hell _don’t_ need a tutor.”

“You said a curse!” Peter hissed. Raven just rolled her eyes again.

Charles nods, “That’s alright, Raven. If you feel confident enough that you don’t need any help with your studies, I’ll leave you to it.”

“And maybe I can change how I look,” she says evasively.

“I was wondering how you were changing your eye colour,” Charles says.

“I was hoping you would. It usually freaks the tutors out.”

“I’d imagine so. Steve, what about you?”

“Uh… I’m sixteen. I’ll be a junior, and… my favourite subject is English, I suppose.”

“That’s good. What about you, Jean?”

Jean nods and smiles. “I’m fourteen, I’ll be a freshman and Charles and I share a power,” she says. A chattering erupted among them as they asked her what she meant. “We both have telepathy,” she clarified.

They all looked at him as all wondered just how strong his powers were. 

“I don’t need to make physical contact with a person to hear their thoughts, unlike your sister. I can block out the specifics of thoughts the longer I spend with a person, but there’s also a lot of variables that can prevent me from doing that, like the closer I am to the person.”

There was a lot of blushing as the kids realized that their thoughts had been opening for reading.

“What about you, then, Scott?” Charles asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

“Uh… I’m thirteen, and I _definitely_ don’t need a tutor either,” he said, crossing his arms. “Though I am having a bit of trouble with math…”

Charles chuckled. “I had a lot of trouble with maths, too. I’m sure we’ll be able to work at it together.” He looked towards Ororo, but didn’t have to prompt her to speak.

“I’m twelve, and I can change the weather! And I also like making pranks, so you better watch out for me, too. I’ll find a way around your mind reading!”

Charles put his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sure you will. I promise to keep an eye out. And how old are you two?” He asked, looking down at Wanda and Peter.

“Six!” Peter shouted proudly, holding up six fingers and prompting his sister to do the same.

“I can run around really fast!” Peter said, and was gone, just like that. Charles didn’t even realize his bag was missing until Peter was holding it in front of him.

“That’s amazing, Peter!” Charles praised, taking the bag back. “What can you do, Wanda?”

There was a moment’s pause as she waited for his question to be signed, and then looks very excited indeed, and starts making hand movements which Charles quickly realizes that has nothing to do with ASL. He steps back further when the rest of the children do as a small, purple wisp of a thing appears between her fingers.

It grows into a small, gaseous cloud, and makes it way slowly towards Charles, before it suddenly pops! and vanishes with a slight gust of wind. Mr. Lehnsherr returns to the room to see some snickering kids and a surprised Charles covered in a glittery, purple dust.

*~.~*

Charles finally makes it home just after six. As soon as he opened the door, the physical noise finally caught up with the mental, with music and TV and lots of talking doing on. He felt very tired, and slipped off his shoes before he made his way down the hallway. There was a lovely smell coming from the kitchen, but he would investigate that soon.

He saw a familiar mass of curly red hair flowing over a couch arm, and he looked over the couch back to see Natasha lying down with Darcy’s dog lying over her torso. The cocker spaniel was enjoying the lazy hand running over its head, but it lay still, waiting until Natasha was ready to move. Clint was on the other side of the couch with Natasha’s legs across his lap, focusing on his phone.

“Are you feeling alright?” Charles asked, giving the dog a pat as he leaned over the couch.

“A little better,” Natasha replied, moving the dog a little so she could sit up. “You’re all purple,” she said, looking up at him with a faint, one-sided smile. “How was your thing?”

Charles moved around the couch so he could sit down, throwing an arm around her in a one armed hug. “I’m basically a glorified babysitter, but otherwise it’s a good gig. The children are nice. The dad, as you said, is a DILF, but the first impressions quickly fell away. He seems to be pretty damn strict; he wants to make sure that they still feel like they’re in school. I don’t know if he’ll actually check in or not to make sure.”

“Yeah, you’ll want him to check in on you,” Clint said lewdly.

“That’s going to be so tough for you, being the carefree spirit that you are,” Natasha said.

Charles laughed at both their comments, already sensing that Nat was beginning to come out of her episode. He shared in the fatigue she was starting to feel, and he leaned over to the coffee table to grab the TV remote to turn it off. Natasha didn’t need to listen to what was happening - something about the crazy shit currently going on in Egypt.

“It’s only a week or two until the summer break, isn’t it?” Clint asks, finally tearing his attention away from his phone.

Charles nods. “Gives me some time to prepare.”

“Jane!” Darcy called from the kitchen doorway, a bowl in her hands, “come here, girl! Dinner’s ready.” The dog jumped from Natasha’s lap and trotted into the kitchen where Darcy set the bowl down.

“Dinner is ready for the humans, too, guys!” Marie shouted. “Bobby, did you set the table?”

“I already did.”

“You hungry?” Charles asks Natasha.

Natasha nods, and receives a kiss to the forehead before they all get up and head to the table, where Marie and Bobby have set down several large bowls of food – pasta, a meat dish, something that can only be described as green. Once everyone is seated at the table, with Logan finally lumbering down from his room by the smell of food, food is doled out.

“Smells delicious,” Charles compliments, and digs into the last meal he’ll have with his most of his friends nearby for the next couple of months.


End file.
